Anam Cara
by soulful dreamer
Summary: Before the Saints rose to their roles as Boston's saviors, Charlie Byrnes fell in love with Connor MacManus. This story starts as Boondocks Saints ends, and picks up as All Saints Day Begins. WARNING: Smut. This one is just for fun. :)
1. Chapter 1

Eight Years Ago

Their faces were all over the news. I think I always knew, deep down, that the MacManus brothers were the Saints. I just didn't want to accept it. I perched on the edge of my chair, eyes wide as I watched the recorded coverage outlining exactly what they'd done. How did they get in so deep? I thought I knew them, knew _him_. It turns out I didn't know them at all. A lot of people called them heroes. Said they were cleaning up the streets of Boston. I could understand that.

But I didn't like it.

The cool plastic of the remote rested against my lips as I stared on in horror. That mob boss had been a bad man, but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

A harried knock sounded at the door. I set the remote down on the coffee table in front of me. "Just a minute!" I called. I had very few visitors these days. No doubt it was someone selling something. I tucked my robe around my small form more tightly, tying the sash at my waist tight. I shook my hair out of the towel holding it back, rubbing the moisture out of it. I smoothed it down with my fingers. The knock came again, louder. "Okay! I'm comin'." I crossed to the door and unlatched the chain and then unlocked the deadbolt. Before I could even open the door after unlocking the knob, it was flying open and a tall person darted into the apartment. "Hey!" I took a step back, my pulse beginning to race in my ears.  
"Charlie," he breathed, his back against the door as he looked at me. His clothes were dirty; his breath was coming in short spurts.

"Connor?! What the hell are you doing here?" He secured the lock on the door and took a broad step toward me. I stepped backwards, bumping into the couch in my living room.

"Be quiet," he said, putting his hands up as a sign of peace. My brow furrowed.

"Be quiet? You're joking, right? You bang into my apartment and then tell _me_ to be quiet?" Connor's eyes were dark as he took another step in my direction.

"I needed to talk to you."

"Six months, and _now_ you wanna talk?"

He nodded. "Will you…sit down at least?"

My body was rigid as I did what he asked, perching again on the edge of my chair, in case I needed to make a run for it. I didn't think Connor would hurt me, but then again I didn't think Connor would ever become a killer. "I'm sorry for just barging in…" He ran a hand nervously through his hair and paced the floor of my living room, before stopping before me and kneeling on the floor. "I should have done this a long time ago." He rifled in his pocket for a moment before he held his hand out to me, a ring held between his thumb and forefinger. "Marry me, Charlie."

I stared at him, dumbfounded by his words. My brow furrowed, I stood up and crossed the room. "Six months ago, you walked out of this apartment, telling me that I was crazy for wanting there to be an us. And now…you're here—" I turned sharply to face him. "—proposing to me. After you just murdered a man in public?"

Connor stood, turning slowly to face me. Regret flashed through his eyes. "I've done a lot of dumb things, Char. The dumbest of all was walking away from you." The Irish lilt to his voice sent my heart pounding in my chest. I'd loved him, fiercely. Here in Boston, he was stuck in a dead-end job. I wanted to move to New York. Start fresh. Be together. All he wanted to do was drink with his friends and barely make ends meet. He stepped toward me, his gait purposeful and slow. "When I think about what makes me happy in life, it isn't the drinking or the killing, it's you." He reached out, taking one of my hands in his own. His hands are warm and calloused, just as I remember, from the hard days working in the factory. Those hands have always been purposeful and tender when he used them on me. Those were the hands I imagined holding our future children, the hands I imagined would keep me close every day for the rest of our lives.

"Why now?" My mind went through the trail of bodies he and his brother had left behind the last several weeks. Had the killing changed him? Was he even the man I loved anymore? He tipped my chin up to look at me. His sea blue eyes implored me, begging me to give in.

"Because it's too late for yesterday." He wrapped an arm gently around my waist and leaned close to me. Even though his clothes were a mess, I could tell he'd tried to clean up before coming here. Connor MacManus had never been very good in the romance department. But, God, he knew the right things to say to me.

"And if I've moved on?" I questioned breathlessly.

"Then I'll kill the man who thinks he has a right to lay a hand on you."

He kissed me then, pressing me between the hard wall at my back and his toned body at my front. I remembered the day he left. He came to my apartment for the weekend. We spent hours together, doing everything and nothing at the same time. On Sunday evening, as we were settling into bed for the night, I asked him the one question any woman who loved a man as much as I loved him would wonder: are we going to get married? He didn't even hesitate. He just flew off the handle at me, telling me it was a stupid idea to get married, that I was crazy to want that.

Connor deepened the kiss, his hands trailing down to the hem of my robe. I flattened my hands against his chest, pushing him back a few inches. "Do you really mean it?" I asked. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. His mouth hung open.

"Of course." He reached into his pocket once more, pulling the ring I'd barely looked at out. He slid it onto my finger. It sparkled in the fading light of my apartment. Connor covered my hand with his own, gripping my fingers. "It was my mother's."

It was beautiful. Not something one would call traditional. It had a simple gold band with a small cushion cut sapphire. There were small diamonds surrounding it. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. He moved forward once more, his lips crushing against mine in a bruising kiss. Much as I remembered our fight that day, I also remembered the times when we were like this, just the two of us. We never even needed to leave the apartment. After three years, the fire in him still hadn't died out. I felt his hands at my waist, at my back, at my shoulders. He untied the sash of my bathrobe and slid the fabric from my shoulders, baring me to the cool air of the apartment. I gasped as ripples of gooseflesh popped up on my skin.

Connor's mouth broke away from mine, trailing kisses from my mouth, across my cheek, to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. He ran his tongue over my earlobe, using his teeth to nibble gently on the delicate skin there. My hands dug into his back as fire erupted, hot in my belly. I took fistfuls of his shirt and yanked it over his head, needing to feel his skin against my own. Connor hooked his hands beneath my legs, pulling me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his desire pressing deliciously back against me. My mouth found his.

This was like riding a bike. A sexy, rock hard bike, but a bike nonetheless.

He carried me to the small dining room table and set me down, allowing his mouth to go back to work. The kisses trailed lower, down my neck, across my collarbone. I ran a hand through his hair, cradling him against me. He flicked his tongue across my nipple, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud. Connor brought his mouth back to mine. "Don't stifle it," he whispered, giving me that mischievous grin of his. "I want you to tell me exactly how you feel." I smirked at him, pulling him to me for a hard kiss. He broke away once more, using his hands to lay me back on the table. His lips and tongue trailed between my breasts, dipping in my belly button, before his hands gripped at my thighs, spreading them apart. He ran the tip of his finger between my folds. My entire body shuddered at the contact.

It had been so long. It had been _too_ long. He pushed his finger inside of me, and I let out a loud gasp. His eyes flicked up to look at me; his lips curled into a smile. Part of me had hoped he would just go for it; I needed to feel him inside of me. But that devious smile on his face told me that he intended on taking his time. On teasing me and making me beg him for more.

For Connor MacManus, I would whimper like a bitch and be glad for it.

I watched his muscles shift as he leaned over me on the table, his hand stroking my sweetest parts. He kissed me, long and slow, as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across my clitoris. My body shuddered again, not used to the sweet contact. Connor kissed me. My arms wrapped around his neck to keep him there as he pressed two fingers inside of me. I moaned into his mouth, unable to hold it back even if I wanted to. "You're all ready for me, I see," he said, coming up for air. "You'll have to wait a little longer, _Anam Cara_." _Soulmate._ I remember the first time he called me that. I thought he'd forgotten the promises he made to me, the way he made me feel. I bucked my hips against his hand, begging without words.

We could take our time later, what I really wanted was him. Now.

"Shhh, it'll be worth it," He smiled and kissed me again, the strokes of his fingers quickening. That feeling in the pit of my stomach was growing. I wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. Didn't he understand that?

Connor pulled his hand from between my legs. I whimpered displeasure, but didn't have too long to stew on it, because his mouth replaced his hands. And he wasn't being gentle, either. His tongue flicked the sensitive bud, forcing sounds out of me that even I hadn't heard in months. He always knew how to pleasure a woman. My hips bucked up off of the table. I couldn't hold on. My thighs clamped around his head as fire erupted beneath my skin, spreading from between my legs to my extremities. He slowed his pace, using his tongue in low, gentle strokes.

My chest heaved as he pulled back, coming up for air. My toes were tingling, and I'm pretty sure my legs had gone numb. Connor ran his hands up the sides of my thighs, over my hips and sides. Though I was still recovering from the orgasm, I could feel the desire building once more in my gut. He pulled me up to sit on the edge of the table once more. I tasted myself on his tongue as he kissed me again. All I knew was that I could never get enough of him. I never had before. As he stood between my legs, my hands went to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. "Hey," he whispered, tipping my head up to him. He kissed me slow. "There's no rush. Not tonight." He smiled and kissed me again. I returned his smile, slowing my shaky hands. Once his belt was undone, I pushed the fabric down. I had planned on taking time with him, too.

My hand reached beneath the waistband of his boxers and I gripped him then. "Fuck," he let out. I slid off of the table to stand, kissing him, stroking him, teasing the tip of it with my thumb. "Fuck it," Connor said, shoving his boxers down and grabbed me hard. In the next instant, my legs were wrapped around his waist and my back shoved against the wall. He buried himself inside of me in one long, hard stroke. I cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain. Connor pulled back and did it again, rattling the pictures on my living room wall. I dug my nails into his skin. I knew he was trying to hold back, but I could see that fire in his eyes.

"Let go," I whispered, running a hand through his hair. He shifted my weight in his arms. Then we were stumbling down the hall. Or, rather, he was. We landed, a mess of limbs and mouths, on my mattress. Connor wasted no time finding home again. He moved my hands above my head, securing them so I couldn't move. While he assaulted my sweet spot with his dick, his mouth found my nipple. He'd foregone any sense of gentleman. His teeth bit down on one and I cried out, shuddering beneath him on the mattress. I could feel myself climbing higher with each stroke.

Connor's goal was always to give me as many orgasms as he could. He never let me feel guilty about it either. God, I loved him.

His strokes were fast and hard now. The only sounds other than my moans were his breathing and flesh slapping against flesh. He released my hands and gripped at my thighs. My arms wrapped around him, pulling him down to kiss me again. I liked to feel the full weight of him on top of me. Our mouths broke apart. I could see he wasn't far off; I wasn't either. "Char, I can't-" I dug my nails in again, encouraging him to let go. My back arched beneath him as the second fire of the night blazed across my skin. I felt Connor stiffen above me. He groaned (never really was a vocal one) as he felt his release.

A moment later, he relaxed above me, leaning down with a content smile on his face. He kissed me, long and slow. His hand cupped my cheek. "Charlie MacManus," he whispered, his forehead against mine.

"Charlie MacManus," I echoed, pulling him back down to kiss me.

He settled beside me on the bed, tucking me in tight against his chest. We fell into a peaceful silence. I rested my head on his shoulder, falling into my thoughts as Connor stroked my hair. "There's just one other thing," he said, his voice soft. "You wanted to move." I picked up my head to look at him, a smile threatening to take over my face. "What about Ireland?"

My expression dropped. "Ireland?"

Connor nodded. "I can't stay in the states. I'm a wanted man, Char. You could pack a bag and leave with me. We're getting on a boat tonight-"

"I have a job, though, and bills. I can't just go," I said, resting my head back on his shoulder. He was quiet. "Not today at least." I picked my head up again to look at him. "How about this?" His eyebrows perked up at me. "You go ahead, with your brother and I'll get my affairs in order here."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Really."

"How long do you think?"

I pondered that for a moment. My lease wasn't up for a couple of months at least. Then there would be a matter of my job, packing, selling what I couldn't bring with me. "Three months."

He smiled and pressed his lips for my forehead. "And then we'll have forever." We shared a secret smile. It was a lot, to give up my home for a man. But Connor MacManus wasn't any man. He was _the_ man, my soul mate.

My _Anam Cara._

* * *

Present Day

The streets of Boston were much busier than a normal Wednesday. By the time I was up and out for the day, most people were already at work. Today, it seemed as though the streets were full of people. I spotted a crowd near the Catholic church. Hmph. Maybe it was some holiday I wasn't aware of. It was the same way on my way home for the day as well. Certainly it wasn't just some holiday?

My curiosity got the better of me. I tugged my jacket closer, feeling a chill from the recent cold snap slip up my spine. Maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't stepped foot on hallowed ground in nearly a decade. I was born Catholic, but I didn't practice anymore. My sins were my own to bear.

As I neared the crowd, I noticed the television vans parked on the street. There were police officers at the front of the crowd, blocking off the entrance to the church. I could see it would be impossible to get further than the edge of the crowd. I grabbed a man by the arm. "What's going on here?" I asked him, confused.

"You haven't heard?" The man asked in a thick Boston accent. I puckered out my bottom lip and shook my head. "They're back!" He was excited.

"Who?"

"Sheesh, lady, weren't you living here eight years ago?"

My blood ran cold. Eight years ago.

The man noticed my hesitation. "It's the Saints! They killed the priest." The world shifted around me. That wasn't possible. There were a number of reasons that it wasn't possible. The man steadied me on my feet. "Lady, are you okay?"

I offered a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." I turned my back on him and walked away from the crowd.

News reports about the MacManus brothers filled Boston's news stations for months after they left the states. It wasn't until the anniversary of the Yakavetta murder that they stopped reporting altogether. I rushed home. The news stations were polling people, asking if they thought it was the Saints. Some said yes, others no. If it was them, _why_ would they come back? Why now? Why would they kill a priest in a church?

None of it made sense. I shoved my way into my bedroom and then to my closet. I turned back to my bed, lockbox in my hands. I unlocked it with shaky hands, then pulled out the Glock pistol Connor had left that night.

* * *

Eight Years Ago

"I wish you could come now," He said, folding me into his arms. The sun would be up in two hours, and he had a boat to catch before that. I molded against him, trying not to be sad. It would only be a few months before we would be reunited. I leaned up, kissing him quickly on the mouth.

"Soon. Three months will pass in a blink," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. "And then we have forever." He pressed his forehead to mine.

"Forever sounds pretty damn good, doesn't it?"

I nodded and pressed my mouth to his. "You need to get going. I don't want you to miss your boat." He pulled from my arms, grabbing the bag he'd brought with him and setting it on the table.

"I have to ask one thing of you, Char." He rifled in the bag and produced a small, black handgun. "Take this." My eyes were wide. I didn't like guns. I'd never even used one before.

"No, I don't need that."

"Char-" He admonished. His tone said one thing, but his eyes were pleading with me silently. "You can stick it up in the attic, you can throw it in the river after I leave. But _please_ take it." He held it in his hand, resting on his palm.

"I don't even know how to use it."

"Hopefully you'll never have to." I reached out, touching the cold metal of the gun. He showed me the proper way to hold it and what I needed to do to load and put the safety on and off. I did it for him, because he'd asked it of me.

To humor him, I put it in the drawer in my bedside table, with plans of moving it once he was gone. If it gave him some sense of peace, then I would do it. I'd do just about anything for him. "I love you." He turned to me at the door. Though his smile seemed genuine, I could see the sadness in his eyes.

"I love you." I leaned up and kissed him.

I should have held on to him a little bit longer.

* * *

The gun felt as cold and foreign in my hand as it had the first time I held it. I glanced over my shoulder, before darting toward my bedside table and stowing it in there. While I had no intentions of using it, I did feel a little more peace knowing that I had it there in case I needed it. When I returned to the living room, the news was playing an interview with some random person who claimed to know the Saints personally, said he was even there for one of the killings.

I'd never met the guy in my life. He was a fraud. And it only pissed me off, the things people would do for their fifteen seconds of fame. So I turned the television off, poured myself a glass of wine, and climbed into a hot bath.

From what I'd gathered of the case, it didn't sound right. Connor and Murphy were incredibly religious. Even if the priest had been some sort of crime lord, they would have never killed him on hallowed ground. Their faith was so devout, they would never even consider it. No, this was something else. Something darker.

Something else altogether frightening.

* * *

Eight Years Ago

"What the fuck are you doing, Connor?" Came a voice from the door. Connor turned to find his brother standing in the entryway, a look of horror on his face.

"What do you mean, Murphy?"

"I thought we were gonna go live with Da in the cottage?"

"Charlie should be getting here any day now. I already told Da, but-" He hesitated. They were twins. They'd done everything together since they were born. He'd been dreading this conversation. But he was certain his father had sent Murphy here so Connor would finally have it.

"Charlie? You mean from Boston."

Connor nodded in response. "We're getting married," he announced. A look of horror crossed his brother's face.

"Married? But...that's not the plan."

"It is."

"Since when?"

"Since before we left. That night, when we got on the boat, I went to see her. I asked her. Now, I won't have her living in some cottage in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, so you're too good for us now, are ya?"

"Murph, that isn't what I meant-"

"Fuck you, Connor! Da sent me with this." He threw something down toward the floor and turned his back, leaving the house.

No, Connor didn't feel he was too good for his brother and father. Charlie was too good for any of it. He wanted her to have a comfortable life here. The cottage wasn't but a half hour away. He leaned down, picking up the envelope his brother dropped on the floor. It was addressed to him in a tidy scrawl. There was no return address. But it was post marked Boston. A smile crossed his face and his heart leapt in his chest.

This would be Charlie's finalized plans. He couldn't wait to see her again.

* * *

"Federal Bureau of Investigation," a male voice answered the line. My hands were shaking. It was late, far too late to be calling anyone, but I had to find out more about what the hell was going on in Boston.

"Agent Paul Smecker, please." I tried to keep my voice steady.

"Who is this?"

That wasn't Agent Smecker. This was the number he'd given me all of that time ago, but that definitely wasn't his voice. "My name is Charlotte Byrnes. I'm an old friend."

"I regret to inform you Miss Byrnes, but Agent Smecker is dead."

The phone dropped from my hand and to the floor. Certainly I would have heard _something_ about it? Then again, I did stop watching the news. I wanted to pick the phone up and ask the man how he died, but I didn't. I hung up the phone and turned it off.

* * *

Eight Years Ago

We met in a non-descript park on the outskirts of Boston. There was one bench in particular that overlooked the pond. It was my favorite place in the park. My father used to bring me here as a little girl and let me feed the ducks in the springtime. Agent Smecker was already seated on the bench, waiting for me. I sat on the opposite end. "Thank you for meeting me," I said just loud enough for him to hear.

"It's nice to finally meet the woman who stole a Saint's heart." I felt nauseous.

"I need your help." I intended on keeping this brief. "I was supposed to go to... I was supposed to be leaving on a plane to be with him." I felt the man's gaze as he turned to look at me. "Something's happened. Things change. I'm not safe where I am now. I need your help to hide away."

"From MacManus...or someone else?"

Even after eight years, I never had an answer for him. He'd given me a card with his private number on it. He said he was the only person I could trust when it came to the brothers. And now he was dead. I didn't know what to do. There was _no one_ else I could trust in this city. I double checked the locks on the doors before retiring to my room. I grabbed my glass of wine, draining the rest. I had just enough to take off the edge, release the tension that had been in my body since the first mention of the Saints return to Boston.

It was enough to get me to relax into my sheets. Not that sleep would find me. No, that night, all of those years ago, played over and over again in my mind. Everything had changed since then. I was living in a different apartment, but that didn't stop people from being able to find me.

Still, I couldn't get rid of Connor's face from my mind, the way he looked at me that night. _Charlie MacManus_ , he'd said. I'd never seen such joy in his eyes, than at the prospect of being his wife. I'd never _felt_ such joy. It was a simple time, when promises could be made. When I still had the freedom to choose. There were a lot of lonely nights, but they were worth it.

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't holding on to a little hope that someday, somehow...

I finally fell asleep somewhere around one in the morning, the gun tucked beneath the pillow on the other side of the bed, and I dreamt of days in the sun in the hills of Ireland with him.

* * *

 _My dearest Connor,_

 _An ocean is between the two of us._

 _The space has given me time to think, time to focus on what I truly want._

 _Your life will always be dangerous. But mine doesn't have to be. I have a choice._

 _I love you. But I can't be with you._

 _I made you a promise. Three months. Three months and we could have forever._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Your Charlie._

* * *

Something woke me up from a dead sleep. From the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow on the other side of my window. I slid my hand beneath the sheet and under the pillow beside me, my hand resting on the cold steel there. The window creeped open. If I wasn't such a light sleeper, I'd have never heard it. Feet hit the floor and I yanked the gun from beneath the pillow, cocking it and pointing it at the intruder.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" I demanded, standing up on the bed. The shadow in the corner straightened. Streetlights from outside filtered through the window.

"Put the gun down, Char."

My hand shook. No. _No_. It wasn't him. The man took a step forward, his face coming into full view through the blinds.

Connor MacManus was in my bedroom.

I crossed to the opposite side of the bed, gun still pointed at him. "Why are you here?" Connor's hands were up; he was unarmed.

"Please put the gun down, before you hurt yourself."

"Oh, don't talk to me in that patronizing tone," I snapped at him. "A priest is murdered in the church, and then you show up here. What are you and your brother up to now?" I stood with the door at my back, in case I needed to make a run for it.

"I will explain everything. Just put. The gun. Down."

"You're here to kill me, aren't you? You're so angry at me that you're willing to kill-" I didn't have a chance, he moved so fast. The gun was out of my hand. Connor snapped the safety on and tucked it at the back of his pants.

"I would never hurt you." His hands were up once more and he took a step toward me.

"The priest?"

"It was a set up. Yakavetta's son did it to get back at us." I peered toward the window.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." I didn't know what to do. I needed to get the hell out of here, but my feet wouldn't move. "He targeted the father to draw us out of hiding. God, Charlie, you're more beautiful than I remember." My entire body was shaking. I knew I'd be useless if it ever came down to actually having to defend myself.

"What do you want?"

"I was worried that Yakavetta would come after you, too," he said in a low voice. He took another step toward me. "I had to make sure you were safe."

"I'm safe. I'm right here. No one's come for me."

"But if I could find you this easily, surely anyone else can."

I regarded him for a moment. The years had been kind to him. I didn't know what kind of things he did with his days now, but his form was still the same. He had stubble around his jawline. It reminded me of long days spent alone with him.

"How did you?"

"Doc." My eyebrows lifted. "He says you invite him over on his birthday to cook for him." It was true. Doc was the one contact I'd kept from those days. The rest of them, I didn't care about. But Doc was how I met Connor, and I would always be grateful for that. "Can I...can we talk? Or am I gonna have to stand here worried you'll claw my eyes out?"

"Fine. But not too loud." I pulled open my bedroom door and turned my back on him, trying to force the tension from my body. I flipped on the lights in the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

"This is a nice apartment. When did you move?"

"After you left," I said.

Connor stared at me. Not just stared, he looked at me as though he could see into the depths of my soul. I turned my eyes down, to the glass in my hands. Guilt roiled around in my stomach. "What happened, Charlie?" I knew exactly what he was asking of me. But I couldn't tell him the truth. I didn't think he'd ever understand. He walked toward me, purposeful, long strides, until he was in front of me. He tipped my head up to look at him. "I asked you to marry me, and you said yes."

"That was before-"

"I told you about Ireland. I know. But you promised. You said three months." Tears formed as I looked at him and saw the sadness in his eyes.

"My letter-"

"I got your letter," he cut me off. "That letter wasn't you. I was so desperate to get back that Murphy and my father had to tie me down for a week before I agreed I wouldn't come back. I thought you were kidnapped." I shook my head. "Something happened. I know you. You don't break promises."

"I told you, your life will always be dangerous-"

"You're safer with me. What's dangerous is moving apartments, not telling me where I could find you, leaving me without so much as a chance to convince you otherwise..."

"If I'd have given you the chance, you would have!" I said, my voice louder than I intended. I covered my mouth with my hand as cold tears slipped down my cheeks. "It was easier to break my promise since I didn't have to see you." His mouth opened to respond, but I didn't let him. "I was safe. Smecker helped me get set up here. I've been safe this entire time."

"Smecker?"

"I approached him after you left, asked for his protection."

"Smecker's dead."

"I know," I said, trying to force my body to be still. Every single fiber in my being wanted to reach out to him, to let him hold me, to make me feel better, even if it was just for a little while. "I called his number tonight, someone picked up."

Connor's eyes widened. "Someone? Who?"

"I-I don't know. Smecker said he was the only person I could trust. So when the news broke about the priest, I called him to find out what the hell was going on."

There was a knock at the door. "We need to leave," Connor whispered, grabbing me by the arm. Why? I opened my mouth to ask, but he shook his head. The person banged on the door, rattling the chain that was meant to keep it secure.

"Miss Byrnes?" A deep, male voice called from the other side of the door.

"We'll go out the way I came in." I planted my feet and yanked my arm out of Connor's grip. "What are you doing?" I heard the creak of a door.

"Momma? Who's banging on the door?"

A little girl, with Connor's dark hair and bright blue eyes stood in the doorway to her bedroom, looking up at me with fear in her eyes.

Eight Years Ago

"Congratulations, Momma," the nurse said as she placed the newborn baby on my bare chest. She whimpered for only a moment, before settling in against my skin. "Is Daddy here?" I brought my eyes to the nurse's. She was new; I'd never seen her before. I just shook my head. No, the father was across the ocean, in some non-descript location. He would never know he had a daughter.

It was for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, dolly," Connor said, helping my daughter through the window. He turned to look at me. A loud bang sounded out in the apartment. Someone had just broken down the door. I didn't have a chance to respond as he shoved me through the window and out onto the fire escape. I saw fear in my daughter's eyes.

"It's okay," I whispered, pulling her to me.

Connor turned to us. "Hey, dolly, want to climb on my back?" He grinned at her, and I saw her shoulders relax.

Half an hour later, the three of us rounded the corner that led to Doc's bar. Very little had been said. Most of the conversation had been Connor trying to make her smile. He pushed open the back door to the bar and motioned us inside. I saw my daughter into a booth at the back of the bar. "Can you sit here for a minute? Do you want some water?" She nodded, looking behind me.

"We've got a storage room upstairs that you can stay in," Connor said to me. I walked behind the bar and poured a glass of water.

"We're not staying here," I whispered at him. "I can't have my daughter in the back room of a bar." I crossed to her and set the glass down on the table.

Connor crossed his arms as he looked at me. Usually, I could read what he was feeling from a single look. Right now, his emotions were guarded. "What's goin' on here?" I turned to find two men standing in the doorway.

"Hi Doc."

"Someone broke into her apartment right," Connor explained. I didn't recognize the other man with Doc. He had wide, crazed looking eyes.

"This is Charlie?" He asked. I nodded. "I'm Romeo. Nice to meet you." I'd never met this man before. I glanced toward Doc. He must not have told Connor.

"Momma?" I turned back to my daughter. "When are we going home?"

"Baby, I don't know," I said softly, brushing some of her unruly hair out of her eyes. "Are you tired?" She nodded. Of course she was. "Where's this storage room?" I asked Connor. He motioned to the back.

After getting her settled in a makeshift bed upstairs, I pressed my lips to her forehead. " Get some sleep, Fiona." She smiled sleepily and curled further into the blanket. I turned to head back downstairs, but found the other MacManus brother standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Charlie." I crossed toward him.

"Hi, Murph." I tried to step past him, but he didn't move.

"Fiona, huh?" I brought my eyes up to look at him and nodded. "I'll stay up here, keep an eye on her." The softness reflected back at me was jarring, almost. I thought Murphy never liked me. Why was he being so kind now?

"Thank you," I whispered.

When I got back downstairs, Connor was the only person still in the bar. He had a drink in his hand. Probably Irish whisky. He'd always loved his Irish whisky. I sat down on a barstool beside him and reached for the bottle. I took a pull from it, reveling as it burned down my throat. He stubbed out a cigarette. "What the hell happened, Charlie?" I couldn't look at him. I didn't think this day would ever come. I hadn't planned for it.

But it had come just the same.

"A month before I was supposed to leave, I found out I was pregnant," I said, grabbing the bottle. "If anyone knew you'd had a child, we would both be in danger. I found a new apartment, I changed jobs, I started over."

"And you didn't think that I deserved to know?"

"It was my burden to bear. If I told you, you would come back, and I couldn't stand the thought of someone catching you and putting you in jail. I'm not worth it."

Connor shook his head. "You are worth that and more," he pushed out in one breath. "I would go to jail a thousand times as long as I knew you were safe."

"I was." I implored him to understand that I was safe. He wouldn't look at me. "I'm sorry," I pushed out before taking another swig of the whisky.

"You could have come to Ireland, still."

"I know."

Silence fell upon us. Connor took the bottle and poured another glass for himself. I drank a large gulp of the drink. My head was beginning to feel light. I felt the cool metal of the chain I wore pressing heavily against my neck. I reached beneath my shirt and pulled it over my head. I set it down on the bar next to him. He glanced over at it, then back at his drink.

"In the morning, I'll get a hotel room and call the police to inspect my apartment," I said in a quiet voice. "We'll be out of your hair."

Without looking at him, I slipped from the bar stool, intent on getting up to my daughter. I felt Connor's hand grip my wrist and I turned to face him. "What's her name?"

"Fiona," I whispered. A small smile formed on his lips.

"After my mother." I nodded in response. He turned to me, stepping off of his stool. He still held an iron grip on my wrist, but his eyes were warm as he looked at me. "I can't just let you walk away. Not this time. I thought you'd changed your mind about me, about us. That being a MacManus wasn't what you really wanted." Was it? Even I didn't know anymore. " _Anam Cara._ Those only happen once in a lifetime." He leaned down, pressing his mouth to mine in a hard, hot kiss. It was short, but sizzling. My eyes opened. "The only place I want this, is on your finger." He'd pulled his mother's ring from the chain and was sliding it back onto my finger.

How could he forgive me? "I don't understand." My brow furrowed. "I've kept a daughter from you for eight years, and yet, you're standing here, telling me you still want me to marry you."

"I love you, Charlie. Whether it's eight years or eighty years, I'll always want you." My breath hitched in my throat as he leaned down to kiss me again. I threw my arms around his shoulders, holding on to him as the kiss deepened. Everywhere he touched me ignited the fires in my belly that I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Someone cleared their throat behind us. We pulled apart, long enough to find Murph and Romeo standing near the back hallway. "We'll go check out your apartment, try to find out who was there." My back straightened at the kindness I saw in Murphy's eyes.

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, we do." He eyed his brother and a silent conversation passed between them. "Doc is upstairs." Without another word, the two of them disappeared. I turned away from Connor, shaking my head.

"There's something I need to ask of you, Char." I turned to face him. "I don't know how things are going to play out with Yakavetta. I want you to take Fiona and go to Ireland. You can stay at my father's cottage until we get back there."

He wanted to be with me, but he was going to ship me off to another country without him? "And if something happens to you?"

He put a comforting hand on my arm. "Nothing will happen to me. I just want the two of you to be safe. If I'm worried about you, I won't be able to complete my job." His eyes traced the features of my face, resting on my lips.

In eight years, no other man had come close to the way Connor MacManus could make me feel with a simple look in his eyes. I'd tried, desperately, to find someone else who could love me half as well as he could. They never matched up. After a few years, I stopped dating because it was pointless. I knew if I didn't have Connor, I'd never have another. I was foolish to think there could ever be anyone else.

* * *

Eleven Years Ago

"Happy St. Patty's Day!" A voice shouted behind me. I turned, unable to hide the smirk that crossed my features. My best friend, Susannah, had just returned from a round the world trip. I hugged her quickly, and then ordered shots.

"So, how was it?"

"Ah-may-zing," she said, glancing around the bar. "I don't quite remember this place being so crowded." I shrugged my shoulders as I handed her shot to her and then toasted.

"To old friends," I remarked, then downed the shot. My eyes watered at the burn of the alcohol.

"So, anything new in the love department?" I rolled my eyes at the idea that I could possibly fall in love at my age. We were young. It was a time to spread my wings, grow, learn. But not settle down.

"There's been a guy here or there, but you know me-"

"You're the hard to please type. I know."

The bartender, Doc, walked over to us. "Evenin' ladies. These are from the gentlemen down the bar." He placed two drinks in front of us. I smiled at the older Irishman. I glanced down to the far end of the bar, finding two men with dark hair and visible tattoos looking our way. One of them was staring at me so intently, I was certain he could see into my soul.

"They're cute," Susannah said. "Which one do you want?"

There was no choice in the matter. I quirked an eyebrow at her playfully. When I glanced down the bar again, I saw the two of them walking in our direction. I took another shot.

"Evenin'," one of the men greeted. I looked up at them. The darker haired one, whose hair fell into his eyes, had been the one to speak. My eyes trailed to the man beside him. He'd not spoken a single word, but his eyes laid me bare.

"Hi," my friend said. "I'm Susannah, this is Charlie."

"Nice to meet you," the man said, extending his hand to each of us. "I'm Murphy, this is my brother, Connor. Can we buy you a drink?"

"Of course," Susannah said, turning on her extra flirtatious act. The pair of them turned to the bar, but Connor just stood there, staring at me with intense blue eyes.

"Charlie," he said, leaning close enough to whisper into my ear. "Want to get out of here?"

My heart was racing in my chest. I was at a loss for words. So I just nodded, rather dumbly. Connor took my hand and tugged me from the barstool. I heard Susannah shout something behind me, but I didn't stick around to find out what it was. I had very little inclination of where we were going as Connor led the way through the back door of the bar. We passed through a small office and storage room before he pushed open the back door of the building.

I _never_ did this sort of thing. Sure, I met guys in bars, but I never left without speaking more than a word to them. Some women would call it dangerous, but I had a feeling in my gut, something that was telling me he would never hurt me.

The moment the cool Boston air took over us, Connor turned to me, pressing my back against the bricks of the alley, and he kissed me. Long and hard. His hands found purchase in my hair. His mouth conquered mine with a skill like no other. I fisted his hair in my hands, wanting to feel him close to me.

Connor pulled back after a long moment, breathing loudly out of his mouth. "I would say I'm sorry, but that'd be a lie," he mustered, an Irish lilt to his voice that made my heart quiver in my chest. I smirked at him.

"Do you usually meet girls in bars, then pull them out the back door without so much as a hello and kiss them senseless?"

His eyes glimmered in the dim light. "No. Do you usually let men kiss you senseless without a proper greeting?"

"Never," I exhaled. He barked a laugh.

"Glad to know I'm the only one," Connor said. He leaned in once more, but instead of kissing my lips, he turned his attentions to my neck. I tilted my head back to grant easier access to his ministrations. Desire built quickly in my belly, snaking its way around every part of me. I pulled his face back up to mine, kissing him swiftly on the mouth.

"We should-" I attempted. "Go somewhere." The words were feeble.

Connor's hands were exploring my body, gripping me in all the right places, grabbing me when he wanted to. I'd never had a man so expertly touch me like this. His hand reached my thigh, where he slipped it quickly beneath the hem of my dress and beneath my underwear. I gasped as his finger slid between my legs. I liked a man who took what he wanted. "You sure you wanna go somewhere else?"

I shook my head back and forth. He covered my mouth with his. I knew in that moment that I was a goner. He shimmied up my skirt and I tugged at his belt. In mere moments, he was pushing himself inside of me. I saw stars behind my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Five minutes. That's how quickly it happened.

When Connor's shoulders relaxed, he pulled his head back to look at me. We shared a breathy laugh. "Have you ever done that before?" He asked.

"In the alley behind a bar where I just met a man?" I shook my head, mouth hanging open, out of breath. "Hell no. Have you?" He shook his head.

"I want to show you something. Will you come with me?" He finally released me back to the ground. I righted my skirt and took his hand. We went off into the night together. I had no idea that night was the start of the rest of my life. But it was.

* * *

I fell asleep curled up with Connor in a chair in the storage room above the bar. I dreamt of that first night together, all of that time ago. I remember then wondering if it would just be the one night and then done. It wasn't. He felt me stir in his lap and picked up his head to look at me. A smile crossed my face.

"What?" He asked, a smile mirroring my own.

"I had a good dream," I whispered.

"Oh yeah?"

"About the night we met."

Connor chuckled beneath his breath. "I was never good at being subtle, was I?"

"It's one of the many things I love about you." He nuzzled into my neck, planting a gentle kiss near my collarbone.

"I remember watching you for an hour before your friend showed up," he remarked, pulling back to look at me. "You were dancing to the music, having a good time. I could see the light in your eyes. I thought I would be more...mysterious. That we could talk and have a good night getting to know one another while getting completely sloshed. But the moment you said you wanted to get out of there, I was lost to you."

"Simpler days," I remarked, picking up my head to see Fiona's still sleeping form on the bed across the room. Connor turned to watch her as well. The sun was beginning to come up outside.

"Have you thought about what I asked?"

"To go to Ireland?" I felt him nod his head. "For Fiona's sake, I would want to say no, but given someone was in my apartment last night, you're right." I turned to look at him. "We'll leave as soon as we can." He pressed his forehead to mine, brushing feather light kisses across my lips.

"Can I meet her?"

"Meet who?"

"My daughter," Connor said. "Officially, I mean. As her father."

I exhaled, emotions welling in the back of my throat. All of this time, I'd had her to myself. It was only fair I give him a chance now too. "Of course," I whispered. He leaned over, pressing his lips to mine in a sizzling kiss. His hand snaked beneath the back of my shirt, pressing me closer against him. It was never difficult to get heated with him. It was too easy, really. But this wasn't the time nor the place. I flattened my hand against his chest. "So do you and your brother have a plan?"

"No." He let out a chuckle. "All we know is that we can't let them get away with this. So the sooner I can get the two of you out of Boston, the better." I nodded, gripping my hand in the fabric of his shirt. The thought of giving him up again made my heart ache in my chest.

"Sorry will never be enough for the time we've lost," I murmured. He stroked my hair away from my face.

"Do you remember what I told you when you asked me why now? When I proposed to you?" I nodded, biting my bottom lip. "'Because it's too late for yesterday.' You thought you were doing best for yourself and our child. I will never fault you for it."

"Momma?" I picked up my head to find Fiona waking up.

"Hey, baby," I said gently, climbing from Connor's lap. I sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. "I have someone I want you to meet." Fiona turns to look at Connor.

"I already met him." She's obviously very confused. I chuckle lightly.

"Yes, but this man—" The words catch in my throat. "He—He's your—" I let out a long breath. "Do you remember how your school had daddy daughter day and you asked me where your daddy was?" She nodded. "I said he was far away, remember?" Her eyes go up to Connor. His features are soft as he gazes down at her, nothing but love in his eyes.

"This man, Fiona. He's your daddy."

I never did do a good job with explaining the dad part of her life. When she got old enough to ask, I thought of my own childhood. Of my own father. I used to imagine he was off in the world having grand adventures. The truth was, he died before I was born. Those stories were my coping mechanism. I thought maybe I could keep her protected from the truth if I told her that he was far away.

Connor knelt before her, looking up at her from his spot. "Hello, Fiona."

My daughter looked at me, then at him, with wide eyes. She looked at me once more, before scooting off of the bed and throwing her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. Tears glistened in his eyes. My guilt subsided. For the first time in my life, my family was complete.

* * *

Eleven Years Ago

"You. WHAT?!" Susannah screamed. We were back at Doc's bar a week later. My friend had been texting all week to get together. I was meeting Connor, so I told her to come by the bar so we could talk.

My cheeks flushed. "I know."

"And he called you after?" I nodded, taking a sip of my rum and coke.

"So he didn't just one and done it?"

"No." I chuckle. "I've seen him almost every day since."

"You sure do move quick."

I exhale, my cheeks flushing at the memories of the last week. The different places, different positions. I missed an entire day of work because Connor wouldn't let me out of bed. "This is…different. I've _never_ felt this way about anyone before. He makes me feel wanted, fulfilled. I've never had that before in a relationship." I peered over at her. "Anything happen with you and his brother?"

Susannah shrugged. "His accent is cute, but I don't think he was interested. Coming over to us was probably his brother's idea." I nodded, realizing the truth. Connor was the one who initiated it all. "So when are you seeing him again?"

"Tonight," I remarked. "He'll be here any time now." I glanced over my shoulder, toward the door to make sure he wouldn't sneak up on me. Then I leaned toward my friend. "I know this is soon, but…I think he might be the one." Susannah eyes me curiously.

"I want to say that you're crazy, but—" She smiles. "It's refreshing to see you so happy." I reach over, giving her arm a quick squeeze.

"I never thought I could feel this way—"

Arms slide around my waist and I feel a hard chest against my back, lips pressing to my neck. "Feel what way?" Connor's voice is deep, husky. It sets my blood rushing down to my core. I slide my hand over his arm, looping my fingers with his.

"Totally obsessed with another human being," Susannah says with a grin. She extends her hand. "I'm Susie. Nice to meet the man behind the stories." Connor smirks and takes her hand, shaking it.

"I hope they're as legendary as I imagine they are."

"Oh, _believe_ me, they are," Susannah remarks. "So, Connor, I have to give you this speech because Charlie is like a sister to me and she doesn't have any siblings to give it for her. You break her heart, I break your neck." I snort in laughter. Susannah wouldn't hurt a fly. But I appreciate the sentiment behind it.

"On my honor." Connor tucks me against his chest, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of my head, before turning to the bartender and ordering another round of drinks.

By midnight, the two of us were drunkenly stumbling into my apartment. I was busy ripping at his clothes, but Connor grabbed my wrists, stilling my movements. I peered up at him, wondering if something was wrong. He pulled me to the bed, tucking me tight against him as he settled into the pillows. "I love you, _Anam Cara_." He kissed every curve and crevice of my face slowly. When he pulled back, he had a contented smile on his face.

"What does that mean?" I asked into the silence. "Anam Cara?" It sounded a lot better with his Irish lilt than my American accent.

Connor's eyes blinked open as he smiled lazily at me. "Soul mate. You're mine."

* * *

"Apartment's clear," Murph said as he and Romeo entered the bar. It would be opening soon. We needed to get Fiona out of here before that occurred. "Looks like someone broke the door down, though."

Connor was sitting next to Fiona, who was shoveling down a hearty Irish breakfast. "I'll take them back so they can pack. Romeo, can you get them passage on a boat?" The man with the crazy eyes nodded.

"Daddy, where are we going?" Fiona, my heart, was already attached to him. She'd been following him around all morning. My daughter had a second sense about people. If she didn't like someone, they usually turned out to be a bad person. Connor smiled down at her.

"You and your mother are going to my home, in Ireland."

"Where's Ireland?" She questioned.

"Across the ocean." Her eyes were wide as she peered up at him. "It's very different from Boston. You'll see mountains and hills and sheep. It's like an entirely different world." She smiled.

"Why aren't you coming with us?"

Connor met my gaze, glanced at his brother, then back at our daughter. "I have some things to tie up here, but I'll be along shortly. I promise." He tucked her hair behind her ear. The tenderness in the action made my heart pound in my chest. I didn't want to give him up again, even if it was just temporary.

Though I knew it was pointless, I wanted to argue with him. That he didn't have to do this. He could come with us, and we could be a family, and never worry about this vigilante purpose of his again. He'd never do it. Because this priest that was killed, it was a carefully pointed attack. They couldn't let it go. My eyes roamed his face, his body; my chest ached at the thought of being separated again. He promised me that everything would be okay.

What if it wasn't?

* * *

Ten Years Ago

"When are you going to take me to Ireland?"

From the beginning of our relationship, Connor had promised he would take me to see his homeland. Now, a year into our time together, I felt that itch. To do more. To be together more. To see his life before I met him. He drew lazy circles on my bare stomach. "Oh, I dunno," he said, his voice husky. He pressed his lips to my jawline. My eyes fluttered closed at the contact of his skin on mine. Even after a year, he had that effect on me.

I put my hand over his, stilling the downward path his fingers were making. "You don't know?"

"It's just, well, expensive to travel there, and I can't really leave Murph—" The frown on my face made him close his mouth. He exhaled. "I won't apologize, Charlie. Murph's my twin brother, and I've never done anything without him."

"You know, it's…normal, for people to do things without their siblings."

"Not for me and Murphy."

"He doesn't like me," I remarked.

"Oh, I think he likes you just fine, Char."

"I want a future with you, Connor, and I can't do that if you don't loosen the reins on your brother." Instead of responding, his hands do all of the talking. The conversation is forgotten as he reaches between my legs.

* * *

By noon, the three of us are taking the elevator up to my apartment. Connor has Fiona in his arms, and I can't help but think about how natural he looks like this. He was always meant to be a father. I just didn't know how lucky I'd feel for him to be the father of my child. He catches my eye and smiles. The elevator dings, signaling my floor and I step out into the hallway. We reach my door, which is closed, but there are dents where whoever broke in didn't bother to hide their mess. Once inside, I lock the deadbolt and put the chain on. Not that it'll do any good with a broken door. At least it makes me feel better.

I turn to Fiona. "Hey sweetie, can you do me a favor and go pack your things? Not just toys, you'll need clothes, too." She nods and squirms out of Connor's arms, heading for her open door. I take in the apartment. Nothing but the door seems unsettled. They weren't searching for something. They were searching for someone. For _me_. Connor can see the worry on my face, because he pulls me into his arms. "How? How did they know about me?"

"Yakavetta has eyes everywhere."

"But, we weren't even together when all of that was going on. If they knew who I was then, why wait eight years?"

"Because if they had you, they knew I'd do anything, even give myself up, to keep you safe." I shook my head, still not getting it. Not understanding how they knew who I was, what I was to Connor. "You said you called the bureau looking for Smecker. That's probably how they found out."

Smecker must have told _someone_ about me. I hadn't spoken to him since that day. I'd changed everything: my telephone number, my address, my work, my hair color. Anything and everything I could to keep myself safe. I called his old number and within a matter of hours, someone was banging down my door. It made sense. "Don't worry, Char, nothing is going to happen to you." He tucks me tight against his chest, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You and Fiona are safe. I'll keep you safe."

My only hope was that he could deliver on that promise.

* * *

Eight and a Half Years Ago

This was it. Tonight, I was going to bring up the big question, the one that had been weighing on my mind for nearly a year. Three years, we'd been together. Three years of bliss, of love, of happiness. I was ready for the next step. It was time for us to decide if forever was in the cards, or not.

I didn't think I could handle it if it was the latter.

I cooked. Nothing fabulous. Nothing over the top. Something that would remind him of home and hopefully remind him that I was worth keeping around. I'd given this man three years of my life. Three years. I didn't want to waste any more time. I had to know. If he wasn't going to give me forever, I wanted to find someone who would. It would hurt; I knew that. But at least I wouldn't wait ten years only to be disappointed.

Connor showed up right on time. Tonight he had a bouquet of daisies. They were red and pink and yellow. Happy flowers. Happy. That's what we were when we were together. He'd also taken the time to shower before coming over, as if he knew tonight was a big deal. Most of the time, he came straight from work and I had to force him into the shower before I'd let him touch me. Half the time, I ended up in the shower with him.

That's the thing. We weren't unhappy. Being with him made me happier than I'd ever been.

But I wanted commitment. I didn't want him to be able to walk away at any moment without a second thought.

A day and a half later, I still hadn't managed to get the courage up to ask him. My nerves were a mess. The only time I could calm myself was when he touched me and he touched me so often that I got lost in him. It was far too easy to do.

Sunday evening came. Normally, Connor would stay the night and leave super early to get to work on Monday. I curled up against him as we watched the evening news. He stroked my hair, his eyes on the television set. I stared up at him, committing his features to my memory. I didn't know it then, but in a matter of minutes my heart would be shattered. If I had known, I can't say that I would have changed the conversation.

"Babe?" I questioned.

"Hm?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

He flipped the TV off and turned to me, a smile crossing his features. He brushed the hair out of my face. "What is it?"

"Are we going to get married?"

His face paled. Tension made his body rigid beside me. I wouldn't regret the question. I had to ask it, if only for my own sanity. "What's got your mind there, Char?"

My brow furrowed. I pulled from his arms and turned my back, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Is it not normal for someone to be curious about marriage after three years of dating?"

"I thought what we had was good."

"It is. But I want more. I _need_ more." Silence. I turned, glancing back at him. He was sitting up, staring at the wall ahead of him. I felt bad, of course, putting this kind of pressure on him, but he had to know that I was serious. "Con—"

"Why couldn't this be good enough?" He questioned, climbing from the bed and moving quickly around the room.

"Are you-?"

"You just had to go and ruin it."

"Ruin?" What in the hell? He shoved his pants on. "Ruin it? I can't believe you think that me wanting a long term commitment is _ruining_ this. I'm not just some girl that you can screw around with forever and never expect her to ask the hard questions, Connor. I _want_ marriage. I want children. And if you can't give me that, then fuck you!"

Connor's shirt was unbuttoned, but he was dressed. "Crazy. Absolutely mad."

"Get out." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Get out and never come back."

"Gladly." He didn't move.

"Fine."

"Fine!"

With one grand sweeping gesture, he was gone. And I was left alone. Bitterly, irrevocably alone.

* * *

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Connor and I were standing in my room. I had a suitcase on the bed, packing the essentials so we could leave.

"Huh?"

"You looked…heartbroken…for a second." I lowered my eyes to the suitcase in front of me.

"I was just remembering that fight we had," I said, shaking my head. He let out a breath.

"That feels like a lifetime ago."

"No kidding."

"Why were you thinking of that?"

"It just feels a lot like that." I stole a glance at him before going back to folding clothes. "Like I'm never going to see you again." He stepped toward me, but stopped as someone knocked on the door to the apartment. Back rigid, Connor crossed toward the door and peered through the peephole. I watched him from the door of my room. His shoulders relaxed and he opened the door. Murphy and Romeo entered the apartment. I heard Fiona squeal and run into her room. I glanced into her doorway, seeing her head peek over her bed.

"Hey, dolly," Connor called. Fiona picked her head up. "Come see, I want to introduce you to someone." Shyly, our daughter walked to the door of her room, peeking up at Murphy and Romeo. Connor squatted next to her. "These are your uncles. Romeo and Murphy." She looked at her father, wide eyed and curious. "Murphy's my brother, Romeo's a friend. You can trust them."

His unfailing faith in Murphy I understood. Romeo was a little…different. I suppose they had to find someone to put in place of David Della Rocco. My eyes lowered as I remembered when Doc told me Rocco died at the hands of a mob boss. It was sad. I hoped none of them would find the same fate.

"Got you two spots on a boat leaving at eleven tonight," Murphy said. I nodded, not looking at him.

We would be leaving this life behind in a matter of hours. Everything I owned, everything I knew…it was all about to change. "Murph," Connor said, motioning to his brother. They walked toward the door of the apartment, speaking in quiet tones. I turned back to my bedroom, cataloguing my belongings in my mind. What I could live without. What I couldn't. I was limited to one suitcase and a tote bag. How could I pack my life in that small amount of luggage?

Going through my closet, I found some of Fiona's baby clothes. I kept a few things. This particular onesie I only ever dressed her in once. _Daddy's Girl._ I'd felt so guilty at the time, putting her in that when I thought she'd never know her father. Wasted years. Absolutely wasted because I was too proud. My back was to the bedroom door as I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

This apartment was where Fiona took her first steps. Where she said her first word (which was, unfortunately, not Mama). Where the fridge had artwork from school with her name on it. Where my dreams changed from one sort of happiness to another. When I agreed to leave, I didn't think about what I would be leaving behind. "Char?" I flinched, glanced over my shoulder to see Connor, and then wiped at the stubborn tears on my cheeks. The mattress shifted beside me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I turned to him then, burying my face in the fabric of his shirt.

I don't know how long we stayed that way. He rubbed my back, cooed sweet nothings in my ear, and tried to reassure me that everything would be okay. That's when I realized he'd changed his clothes. He was wearing a nice button down shirt and slacks. It was a far cry from the normal clothes he wore. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Put on one of your nice dresses. I'm taking you somewhere." My brow furrowed.

"We don't have time for a date?"

"We make time. For us."

I didn't argue with him. Instead, I did as he asked, changing into a nice dress and applying makeup. When I came out of the bedroom, I found Fiona sitting on the couch between Romeo and Murphy, watching cartoons. She seemed at ease with the both of them. "Boys, we'll be back." I had no idea where he was taking me. I moved behind the couch and leaned down to kiss Fiona.

"You okay here?" I asked her. She smiled and nodded, then showed me that Uncle Murphy was ticklish. It was obvious he was exaggerating.

Huh. All of this time and I thought he hated me. Maybe there was more to him.

Connor kissed the top of our daughter's head, then took me by the hand. He led the way downstairs. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see when we get there," he remarked.

So I let him lead me through the city. It was getting later in the day, and sidewalk traffic was picking up. He turned off at a row of trees, gripping my hand in his like a lifeline. As my vision focused on our location, I stopped, tugging him to face me. We were standing in front of the church I'd grown up in. "What is this?" I asked.

Connor smiled, brushing his fingertips against my cheek. He kissed me, long and slow. "I made you a promise. Let's get married."

* * *

Eight Years Ago

Connor hasn't called.

It's been days since he stormed out of my apartment. I don't know what to do. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it when I told him to leave. But now he's gone and I'm here and I just don't know how to handle myself. I glance at the clock. Eight-thirty on a Friday. He'll be at Doc's, no doubt. I can't help it. I have to see him. If not to apologize, then at least to explain to him why I felt the way I felt.

I grabbed my leather jacket and headed out. The bar wasn't far. When I got there, I found the place full as normal. I don't recognize the patrons hanging out near the front of the place, so I push through and head toward the bar, trying to get Doc's attention. As I peer down to the far end of the bar, I find Connor. On his lap is a pretty red head. She's giggling as he whispers something in her ear.

My heart drops into my stomach. Oh. _Oh_. Well.

Doc is asking me what I'll have to drink, but I shove back from the bar and head for the exit. So that night, that first night, all of that time ago. When he said he didn't do that with women when first meeting them. That was all a lie. He'd made me feel like I was special. He'd lied.

As I reached the street, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I whirled around, ready to punch Connor in the face, but it wasn't his face looking back at me. "What do you want, Murphy?"

"Are you okay?"

"Since when do you give a fuck if I'm okay?" I shout at him. He hesitates long enough for me to gather myself. "You've got exactly what you wanted, didn't you? You didn't like me from the beginning. And now, since your brother's single, you guys can go out, do whatever you want, _fuck_ whoever you want, and not have to be adults! That's great!"

"Charlie, that's not—"

"Oh, _spare_ me." I shake my head at him. "I'm done. Done with your fucking brother. Now you can be happy that I'm out of your miserable, pathetic little lives!"

With that, I turned around and walked away. Murphy shouted after me, but he knew better than to chase me. I wouldn't hesitate to use my fists or my knees if needed.

Angry tears streamed down my cheeks as I shoved open the door to my apartment. I slammed it closed behind me. I couldn't get the image of Connor with that redhead on his lap from my mind. Three years. _Three fucking years._ All of it, gone without a care. All because I wanted to make him a permanent part of my life. Was he really that against marriage? So much so that he didn't want to even discuss the possibility that _I_ might want something more, even if he didn't. There wasn't even a conversation. Getting mixed up with him was stupid, plain and simple. I should have known better.

I take a long, hot bath and finish an entire bottle of wine before I'm ready to call it a night. I stumble over my own two feet as I walk to the main room of the apartment, cursing beneath my breath as I caught myself on the doorway to my bedroom. "Stupid mother fuckin'-" I stop, blinking several times to make sure I'm not seeing things.

Connor MacManus is sitting in my apartment.

I pull the robe more tightly around my shoulders. "How'd you get in here?" He stands from his seat. He dangles a key in front of me before setting it on a side table. "What do you want?" He looks over me, his features hard. His eyes, though, they're softer.

"Good to see you're keeping the liquor cabinet stocked."

My brows furrowed, I say, "Good to see I meant nothing to you at all." I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't appreciate you showing up here like you belong. You need to leave." I turn my back on him, crossing to grab a glass from the cabinet to busy myself. I fill the glass with water. He's still standing there. "Are you deaf, Connor?" I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Get out."

He stares at me so long I begin to feel uncomfortable. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. "Why did you have to ruin a good thing?"

It's like a slap in the face. I'd almost have preferred him to hit me. That way I could hit him back. " _I_ ruined—I ruined us, that's great." I shake my head. "I _loved_ you. I wanted _you_. Forever. Is it so bad that I wanted to make us official?"

"Charlie—"

"Shut up!" I shout. "You don't get to walk in here and try to talk to me. I want you out. Or I'm calling the police."

"Murphy said you came by the bar—"

"Yeah, and saw you with a woman on your lap. Proving to me that _everything_ with you was a lie. We are done." He steps toward me. I don't even look at him. I put my hand up. "Don't! Get. Out. The cops can be here in three minutes." He regards me, silent, for a long moment. He opens his mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut.

There's so much in that moment that I want to say to him. I want to shout some more, I want to curse him, hit him. I want to tell him that a life without him is no life at all. That I love him. That all I've ever wanted was him. But words won't save us. They can't save us. Not anymore. He turns and heads toward the door, pulling it open. With his back to me, I hear him say one word, just one word that puts the nail in the coffin of our relationship, "Goodbye."

* * *

When we pushed open the door to the apartment, cheers threw up in the air. All of our friends, our family, stood inside. Apparently Murphy took it upon himself to call everyone and invite them to celebrate. We drank champagne, we danced, we let Fiona have way too much chocolate. She crashed on the couch, leaning against her uncle's arm. I was perched on the arm of the chair, Connor's hand resting on my hip. Everyone else had left. Fiona stirred in her sleep. I pushed to my feet. "Here, let me move her." Before I could stand fully, Connor stopped me.

"I'll do it." The stark blue of his eyes stopped me. I nodded, in awe of how quickly this man had become a father. No, we couldn't make up for lost time, but I could see how much he wanted to make this work.

As I watched my husband carry our daughter to her bedroom, time seemed to catch up with me.

I would be saying goodbye to him soon. Each time we've said goodbye, I thought it would be the last time. This time, I hoped beyond all hope that it wouldn't be. That we would get our fresh start in Ireland. As long as we were together. Nothing else mattered. Not apartments. Not material things. All I wanted was my husband and my child. That couldn't be too much to ask, could it?

"Charlie." I glanced over at Murphy. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." My eyebrows shot up on my forehead. He stood, towering over me like he and his brother did. "I treated you terribly, before. I was jealous thinking that someone could occupy my brother's heart. It wasn't until we went to Ireland, until he got your letter, that I realized just how much he truly loved you. That no matter what anyone did, no matter who came and went in our lives, you would always be the woman he dreamt of." I gave a gentle smile. "I'm honored to call you my sister."

Those were more words in one statement, than Murphy had ever said to me in all the time I'd known him. I hugged him then, my brother. I'd been an only child. I could never understand the sibling bond, but I appreciated Murphy for accepting me now.

"If I didn't know any better," came the Irish voice I loved so much, "a man could think his brother was moving in on his wife."

I snickered in laughter, shaking my head as I pulled back to look at Connor. "Well, ya know, she's a beautiful woman—"

"That's why I married her," he said, lifting an eyebrow.

The door of the apartment opened. Romeo, wild eyes and all, darted toward us. "Got a lead on some shit going down in a warehouse tonight." My brows furrowed. "We gotta move fast."

"But—"

Connor put a hand to my lower back. Our eyes met and I saw how dark his were. He intended on getting us on that boat. Now. Our grand reunion was at its end. My only wish was that there would be more time.

* * *

One Month Later

"Momma, this is nasty," Fiona whined as she pushed the food around on her plate. I frowned at her from across the table in the small restaurant. For three weeks, we'd been kept in secret at the small cottage. Our only contact with the outside world was a priest; a friend of the MacManus family. I'd been expecting to meet Connor's father upon our arrival, but it turned out that he had already departed for the states. Something to do with all of the drama surrounding the priest's murder. I'd been waiting, desperately, for any sign of them.

The news in Ireland didn't cover Boston specifically. I never heard anything from the radio broadcasts. I'd felt so cut off from the boys that I was beginning to lose hope that we would be reunited. I'm sure Fiona could sense my worries. Kids were smarter than people gave them credit for. "I know, just eat it," I whispered quickly from over my cup of coffee.

My eyes darted to the television hanging on a nearby wall. _Breaking News! The Saints Have Been Captured!_ Photos of Murphy and Romeo and Connor flashed across the screen.

All I heard was the sound of breaking ceramic. I'd dropped my coffee mug, sending pieces of it scattering across the table and the hot liquid seeping down into my lap. My hands were shaking as I tried to maintain control of my emotions. "Are ya alright mum?" A waitress was above me, leaning over to help clean up the mess. I nodded.

"Yes, it…it slipped. Thank you."

My eyes cut back to the television as a video of the three of them being carted into prison showed on the screen. Arrested. Arrested and in a high security prison. What the hell was I going to do now?

I'd had plans to get some things from the store that day. But all of my plans were shot. If the brothers were in jail, I had to figure something else out. Something, anything, to help them. But what could I do? I wasn't knowledgeable on criminals and how to break them out of jail. I was so, so very lost.

By the time we returned to the cottage, empty handed, I found a man standing near the front door, dressed in black robes. "There you are, Mrs. MacManus." I gripped onto Fiona's hand. It was the priest.

"Have you heard?" I asked him, my tone accusatory. He nodded, his expression grave.

"I have a message for you." My brow furrowed. A message? I opened my mouth to ask from who, but he answered before I had a chance, "It's from Agent Paul Smecker."


End file.
